* * * *
We told Peter we’d pick her up on our way out of town later in the day.
“You thought of a name, yet?” I asked Oscar as we walked along the sidewalk toward Annie’s. Carson had gone back to Jensen’s.
The sun was high, and I checked the time on my pocketwatch—twelve-twenty.
“Yes, sir, I have. Her name’s Onyx.”
I’d never heard that word before. “Onyx? What the hell is that? Is that a different language?”
Oscar gave me a look. “Hell, Jimmy. You mean there’s somethin’ I know about that you don’t?”
“Very funny. Just seems like a strange name for a horse, that’s all.”
“‘Onyx’ is a mineral. It ain’t gold, but it’s awful pretty. Back in Dawson, I learned the names of all kinds of rocks from them miners who were obsessed with finding gold. The best bits of onyx are solid black and smooth, just like my horse.”
“Well, she ain’t so smooth with her winter coat comin’ in. But she sure does look solid and healthy.”
Oscar’s eyes sparked. “Thank you for buyin’ her for me. I don’t know what I’d have done if we’d had to leave her behind. I think I fell in love with her when she first came close, to be honest.”
“Just like I did you.”
He shot me a secret glance. “Exactly.”
I cleared my throat and kept my distance, like we were just two men walking through town together. The intimidating landscape of Port Essington rose up around us, dwarfing the town itself in the shadow of mountains and thick banks of forests.
I thought back to that day in Dawson City when I’d encountered a bedraggled and starving street rat. “Although, if memory serves, you weren’t as friendly.”
Oscar laughed. “No, that’s true. Not sure why you put up with me. I was so surly.”
I nodded. “You had every right to be. The world had treated you pretty bad, I reckon. I’m just glad I found you.”
“When I think what my life might have been like if you hadn’t—” Oscar said, shaking his head and quickening his step, as if he wanted to leave those thoughts behind him.
I kept up with him and pointed down the street. “You ready to get some lunch?”
Oscar lifted his head and beamed, his gaze fixing on the sign of a petite white house that said ‘Annie’s Kitchen’ in bold yellow letters on the side.
“Yes, sir. I’m starved.”
“Then let’s go in.”
As we stepped up onto the porch, the door opened, its metal bell jingling as two women came out, laughing about something. I grabbed Oscar’s elbow to get him to move aside.
“Oh, excuse us,” one of the ladies said, while her companion smiled and said, “Thank you.”
“Ma’am,” I replied.
We stepped into the cozy interior where there were about six tables set up, ranging in size from six-place settings to two, all covered in white linen. I gestured toward a table for two in the corner, and we sat down.
T’was homey and smelled of good food and coffee. Only a couple of the other tables were taken. It didn’t take long for a young man about Oscar’s age, wearing a short white apron o’er his trousers, to come on o’er. In the back of my mind, I wondered if someday Oscar might get a place at Annie’s or at Jensen’s, serving food and drink. He was pretty enough to please the public, if only I could teach him the good manners he’d need.
“Good day, gentlemen. Can I offer you a menu?”
“Oh my gosh, yes,” Oscar said. “I’m so hungry.”
The man laughed. “That’s what I like to hear. My ma likes to feed hungry people. That’s why she set up this place, of course.”
